


Chance Meeting

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst, Chance Meetings, M/M, Meeting Again, Sexual Experimentation, teenage idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: Sirius and Remus chance upon each other five years after being expelled from College.





	Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> One of many drafts for the Sirius Black Fest. I was reading the Swimming-Pool Librarian at the time, which inspired the intro.

“So, do you want to have sex?” Sirius’ heart was in his throat, his brain in his pants. Remus, wreathed in a haze of smoke from their illegal cigarettes, watched him with his dark eyes.

Sirius could hardly blame himself for rushing his opening. He had been aching to have sex. To the point that he vibrated with it, waking up semen-splattered and still throbbing. And the incendiary sat next to him, smoking a cigarette and looking stunned. Sirius had been in love with Remus John Lupin for nearly six years. A scholarship boy, he was serious and beautiful. Something the girls of Rowena’s Finishing had started to notice during mandatory dances. Having shed some of his gawkiness, Remus was just tall now. Taller than Sirius anyway, who was audacious if somewhat pinched and pasty.

Remus shrugged. “Alright.” But his fingers were shaking around the cigarette, right leg tapping on the remains of a low stone wall they were both hunkered on. He had the look of a man who couldn’t quite believe he’d said what he said.

Sirius knew Remus, so he took his hand and led him out from behind the caretaker’s shed and straight to the dormitory before the other boy really started to think about it. They were already skiving, so they had to take the back way, avoiding the Headmaster before running up the servant’s stairs to their room. Without pausing, Sirius pulled Remus into the shower room and started to take his clothes off.

He had his tie and blazer and oxford off when Remus squared his shoulders and started to discard his own. Sirius had to squeeze his legs together to stop himself from coming the moment Remus opened his flies and let his trousers and pants drop. They stared at each other’s cocks - Remus’ nestled in dark blond pubic hair and Sirius’ in black - because it seemed the thing to do. He didn’t know if Remus would be alright with kissing, so he ran a finger down the shaft of his cock instead.

Remus gasped, jumping slightly. But he did not move away.

Sirius took this as assent and wrapped his hand around the familiar/unfamiliar weight. Remus was hot to the touch and trembling slightly. Regretfully, Sirius removed his hand and walked to the nearest stall to throw on the shower. Each of the showerheads were bracketed in dividers, giving the illusion of privacy, though none had doors. From any of them, you could see the door. Or carry on a conversation with someone using the loo. It was awkward, standing under freezing water. Though Remus had reached for one of Sirius’ hands. Around them, the ancient waterworks of the College complained but eventually warmed.

Neither had any idea of what they were doing. Or what sex meant for them at this moment. Sirius took a deep breath and reached for the bar soap, putting it into Remus’ hand.

“Sirius…” It was the first thing Remus had said since coming inside. A question that fell away in the shower. It was quiet, more of a whisper, and unsure.

Sirius moved to the wall and pressed his palms against the tiles. The water sluiced down his shoulders and into the cleft of his arse. He took a deep breath - equal parts excited and terrified - and moved his legs apart. To give Remus space. A welcome.

Remus put his hand on Sirius’ bony hip, his forehead dropping to Sirius’ shoulder in a shuddery breath. “Are you sure about this?” But Sirius could hear the squelch of the bar soap where Remus held it under the water. He was in. When Remus made up his mind, he never wavered. It was something that often irritated Sirius, but this time it was in his benefit.

When he had a good lather, Sirius supposed as he couldn’t see anything with his eyes closed, Remus ran his hand along Sirius’ underside. No one had ever touched him there and he groaned from the utter naughtiness of what they were doing hit him. Remus’ pointer and middle finger slide back until they passed over his arsehole. Sirius tensed, but his body also pushed into the pressure.

“Just do it, Remus.”

“You’re so small.” With a hiss, Sirius reached around to palm Remus’ hip, squeezing the skin and bones, and pulled him closer. Remus rubbed the bar soap against him, ran it under the shower, and then rubbed again. Sirius groaned into it, more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Not even when he’d convinced Remus to let him slip into bed next to him, grinding his cock against the weave of his pyjamas and Remus’ sheets, trying not to wake him.

He felt the blunt nudge of Remus’ cock at his arsehole a moment before the head popped into the tight ring of muscle there. It was indescribably painful. Sirius gasped but bit his bottom lip. He knew that if he gave any sign of distress that Remus would stop. And he never wanted to let Remus go. He willed himself to relax, bringing his own right hand down to stroke himself. The entry seemed to go on forever until Remus was flush against Sirius’ bottom. “Is it… okay?” He asked, voice tight and concerned.

Tasting the bright copper of his own blood on his tongue, Sirius said, “Yes.”

“Is it… can I…” Remus was trembling behind him, asking if he could move in him. Sirius nodded.

If Remus had been a less careful person, things wouldn’t have turned out as they did. He was slow and diligently reapplying suds as it dried on, and in, them. Remus shifted slightly and the ridge of his cock rubbed against something that sent Sirius shivering in pleasure, though it was still painful. Heedless of his success, Remus continued to thrust, sud, thrust, each time hitting the same spot. It was still not entirely comfortable, but the pain was now shrouded with a fragile layer of arousal. With his hand on his cock and Remus inside him, moaning into his ear, Sirius realized that he could actually come this way.

If not for the horrified tones of the Football Coach, standing in the entryway watching two students fuck in the shower. “What on earth are you two boys doing there? Stop what you are doing immediately.” In a farce that Sirius would never forget, the tension of discovery sent him over. His sudden release set off Remus, who drew out of Sirius quickly and then came explosively on the small of Sirius’ back, thick globs of spend running down his arse.

They were in a rather serious amount of trouble.

Sirius was crying. But not because of the degeneracy. He had just had the most intense experience of his life with Remus, who he was rather desperately in love with.

They were understandably separated. Remus directly to the Headmaster and Sirius to the Matron to be checked over for injuries. He would never experience a more horrifying thing than leaning over a sick bed while the Matron prised his arse open, spreading vaseline on his anus. Soap not really being a very good lubricant.

The Blacks were furious - but whether at Sirius or Remus he wasn’t sure. Mrs Lupin was resigned but kind. She was a single mother, working class, and said only, “At least you didn’t get anyone pregnant” while mangling Remus’ hand.

They were both sent down. Sirius boarded off to Scotland where he met James and Pete. Remus tucked into the passenger side of a battered Ford Cortina, sobbing.

Sirius never forgot him, though Remus never returned his letters.

*

“I told them it would be here.”

The flat in Kensington was often volunteered for parties. Sirius’ Uncle’s, it was the penthouse. No neighbours to complain and a roof now littered with the detritus of two boys living in an expensive flat rent free. Sirius, who was in his pyjamas with a bottle of wine, rolled his eyes. “So you’re telling me that you fabricated all of this so you could lure this boy you like - Moony - to the flat. And do what? Stare at him all night?”

Jamie had been talking about Moony for weeks.

They were both reading medicine, which was a small cohort, and yet had not met each other until they were clerking at Barts. As Jamie told it, Moony and James were the only students who hadn’t vomited during their A&E rotation, so they’d been permitted to watch a double amputation. This was apparently some sort of an honour. During their Obstetrics rotation, James had delivered a baby in the hallway with Moony looking on and their friendship was firmly sealed. Except that Jamie was in love with him. But had yet to discern (a) his actual name, (b) whether he was gay, and (c) whether he liked James.

But had learned that Moony’s favourite colour was yellow and he made a ferocious builder’s tea.

“It’s just a few people. Pete and Lily and the like.” He clinched his belt and then said, “And please. Just act normal when he gets here.”

“Oh, and not tell him that my best mate’s fallen arse over kick over mass casualties?”

“Amongst other things. Now put some jeans on and help me pick up.”

*

Through the power of whisper down the lane, a few people turned out to be significantly more. It wasn’t that Sirius disliked parties. It was just that he preferred to know more than a quarter of his guests.

James, usually a flaming extrovert, was a ridiculous wreck. Evans, who he dated briefly in College, was trying to bolster his flagging confidence. It would almost be hilarious if someone hadn’t just spilt beer on the couch. Or every available surface wasn’t filled with a body. He picked up the plaster Bonham cast that had been a gift from Alice Longbottom, nee Prewett, and went back to his room. Where he pushed all the coats off his bed and queued up his turntable.

Phil Oakley was just opining that five years later on the one who got away had the world at their feet when the door opened and Remus John Lupin peeked in. “Oh, pardon,” he laughed. “I thought this was coats. Sorry.”

In a flurry of arms and legs and coats, Sirius jumped off the bed and ran out into the hallway. Remus - and he was sure it was Remus because there were too many people to get anywhere fast - had been caught by a brunette Sirius had never seen before. His head was tilted, the dingy hall-light cast his chiselled features in deep chiaroscuro, and he was laughing. He was fucking gorgeous, as Sirius always knew he would be.

And he was here.

They made eye-contact as Remus was attempting to get away from the girl and they just looked at each other. Remus in some confusion and Sirius with evident excitement. Something clicked and Remus almost smiled. He touched the girl’s shoulder and walked over. “Sirius Black?”

“Remus.” Sirius drank in Remus.

“Wow. I can’t--” But what he couldn’t he couldn’t quite get out. “It’s been a while, yeah.”

“Five years.” Sirius finished. “It’s been five years.” Taking a breath, he asked, “How have you been?”

“Alright, yeah.” He laughed, but it was a tight, distracted sort of sound. “I really need a drink.” It wasn’t quite an invitation, but Sirius took it as such. Remus cut a path through the crowd under a sabre arch of greetings. Sirius doggedly staying on his heels until they got to the kitchen, where Remus filled a mug with vodka and drank the entire thing in one go. On a guess, he’d just had nine fluid ounces or so of alcohol. Enough for six mixed drinks.

Biting his lip, he wondered if Remus was going to keel over after and tried to put himself between Remus and the edge of the table. He curled his hands just before he touched Remus, who flinched back at the expectation. “I should go.”

“What? No!” Sirius took a breath, trying to quell the frantic pounding of his heart.

Sirius could hear Jamie’s voice rising above the crowd - in what seemed like another life - talking about Arsenal FA with, well, anyone really. Remus tucked his hands under his armpits, closing himself off. But he did make eye-contact rather than immediately fleeing. “So it’s obligatory niceties?” He huffed a laugh. “What have you been up to, Sirius? Since we were expelled from College.”

“Alright,” Sirius’ teeth tearing at his bottom lip. “I tend bar at my local. But am working on a B. Arch.”

“Pro tip,” Remus leaned forward, his voice sardonic. “Doors on shower stalls.”

Sirius thought he had rather a good read on the legless. And the alcohol was starting to work on Remus. Lost and yet easing into it. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, arms still wound around his torso.

“Why don’t we go out for a smoke?” Sirius held his breath. Hoping it was the right tact to take. Remus could walk out the door and just disappear again.

Although the voice in his head consoled, someone had to know Remus. Where Sirius could find him.

Sirius pointed towards what looked like a pantry door. “Come up?” Winning the gambit, Remus followed after, coming just behind Sirius who had waited for him to come up. Almost, but not quite touching. Definitely not touching. “Perks of city living.”

“This is yours?” Remus walked over to the edge, leaning over the brickwork and fumbling for a pack of cigarettes in his coat. He was graceful and steady. Sirius wondered if he drank like that all the time. Not just when face to face with your first.

Sirius had passed through countless beds since Remus. But there was no one like Remus Lupin. He was afraid that there never would be.

“Mine and James.”

“Potter?” The question sweetened at the end, painting the name with something like fondness. Sirius didn’t answer right away and Remus asked, “Want one?” Sirius took a cigarette, leaning over towards Remus, and let him light it.

“Yeah.” It was cold and clear and dark on the roof, and Sirius used his cigarette to light a nearby lantern. They had a set of them, unmatching, that they’d got at a flea shop. “Yeah, Potter.”

Remus’ eyes brightened. “Potter’s brilliant.”

“He has his moments.” Sirius watched Remus through the dark fall of his lashes. “Are you in London now?”

“For now, yeah.” Sirius arched his brow, prompting for more. “I’m reading medicine.” He laughed, wiping his right hand across his face. It was a helpless gesture.

“What?”

“It’s just--” he laughed again. “It’s so odd to see you again, right?” He took a long drag of the cigarette, temporarily wreathed in smoke as he exhaled. “That thing… you… fucked me up so much.” The laugh that came with that was wondering. As if he couldn’t quite believe it. That he was here? That he was saying what he was?

Sirius’ whole body tightened, the two sips of vodka he’d had lying uneasily in his stomach. He reached for Remus’ hand and this time he let him have it. “Please look at me.” Remus wouldn’t. His hair was darker than it had been, disordered by the wind.

“I was a fucking idiot.” He took another drag of the cigarette with his free hand, keeping it away from both himself and Sirius.

“I don’t regret any of it. Not any of it.”

“I do.” Remus’ jaw tightened. “I still have the scars from the fifteen cuts I got for my part.”

“They caned you?”

Sirius had gotten off significantly lighter. His name and status had offered him protection from any sort of corporal punishment. He’d been sent down and immediately enrolled at Hogwarts, the event expunged at the behest of the Blacks. Remus, the scholarship boy, had obviously… taken the brunt of it. He had never considered the implications for Remus. Never in the five years since they’d last seen each other. Remus shook him off, flicking the ends of his fag over the side of the roof and reaching for another one.

“I guess I thought I was in love with you.”

“Remus, I--”

“Moony!” Jamie yelled, coming up the stairs with all the force and panache of James Potter. Lily and Pete and the Longbottoms leading the charge. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Sirius’ mouth slammed shut so hard that his teeth cracked.

The smile that lit up Remus’ - Moony’s - face was electric. It transformed him from handsome to completely unreachable. Offered freely and without any artifice or shame. “Potter. Hey.” They were drawn to each other like the gravity between two brilliant masses.

Sirius had to turn his head to wipe his face.

“Pads.” James clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a meaningful look. And then Sirius realized. That his Remus was James’ Moony. That he didn’t know his name. Or whether he liked boys. Or that he had once might have loved Sirius Black. “Do you know each other?”

“We - Remus and I - went to College. Before Hogwarts.”

“He was just catching me up.” Remus passed his own cigarette to James, who had reached out in habit. “Life parted us long ago.” He brought a palm to his chest in exaggerated woe. But he couldn’t quite look at Sirius. Behind Remus, James had inched his arm out on the edge of the roof. Not quite touching, but also not pushed aside.

Through the tar and wood and lath, Rick Springfield realized that the point is probably moot.

“I’m glad you came.” Remus gave him an enigmatic look. His eyes pleased. “Well, Pads you know. But this is Evans, Pete, and the Prewett-Longbottomses. And everyone else.” He gestured around him. One of the guests had unwound the cords to Sirius’ speakers and brought the party to the roof.

After another beer, Remus only stayed about a half hour or so. He tumbled into James’ arms and Jamie held him up at the hip, mouth close to his ear. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“But you just got here.” James was definitely whinging.

Remus laughed at him. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again, Potter.”

“Can I walk you home at least?” Jamie’s hand was still on Remus’ hip. “You’re a bit unsteady.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Remus made a production of straightening out his coat, which he’d never taken off and then said, “Yes, James Potter, I will let you escort me.” The look of adoration in James’ eyes was as transparent as it was ridiculous. Remus made his farewells, stopping to put his hands on Sirius’ shoulders, his thumb accidentally grazing his neck. “Sirius Black. I have no idea how to say goodbye to you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Are you even going to make it back?” James asked as they stumbled down the stairs, passing out of sight and hearing.

Sirius stayed on the roof, trying to feel happy for James, and wishing they were sixteen years old again. When Remus loved him.

*

If it was any consolation - and it was - James was there when Sirius woke up in the morning. Having fallen asleep, despite himself, on the feather ticking of forgotten coats.

In the half a decade he’d known Jamie, he’d never once been jealous of him.


End file.
